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Saturday 27th June 2009
Blackpool
 Well, A****** needed (?!) a 'superheroes' outfit for this 'graduation ceremony' (the picture to the left there was taken later on, once home) taking place at his nursery the following day. To cut a long story short, and perhaps we're slightly disorganised here, but we had to go all the way to Preston to find one. Great. M**** drove. So, we got this Power Rangers outfit, looked at some hideous sofas at DFS and then were at a bit of a loss. To go home, having come this far, or to head into Preston or somewhere else nearby? In the end, we opted for the latter and chose Blackpool. I can't remember the last time I had been to Blackpool although I'm sure my parents must have taken me there once. I started saying to M****, "I haven't been to Blackpool . . . " and was then going to say, "since . . . " but maybe this was my first time. I had read about Blackpool, so I should have known what to expect but it was still a bit of shock. We drove pretty much into the heart of Blackpool itself, parking at something like Chapel Street car park. On the way in to Blackpool, driving along Central Drive, I remember thinking, "Oh dear, we must have approached Blackpool from the poor, dilapidated, scummy side." In retrospect, I don't think there is any other side . . . but then we didn't see a huge amount of Blackpool, so I'm prepared to be proven wrong. So that was one of the first things that struck me . . . the shabbiness of it all. The next thing that struck me was the quantity and sheer ugliness of those wretched 'mobile phone masts'. I'm talking about those ones that are dozens of feet high, festooned with various domes and panels and usually found atop the odd hillside here and there. But not in Blackpool. One of these was about half a mile from the Tower. It's one of those things, once you start looking out for them, you spot 'em everywhere. Wretched things. So yeah . . . we had lunch at Bella Italia and then wandered around for a bit, walking to the end of Central Pier (at the end of the pier, I was reminded of that familiar feeling you get in Morecambe: look to the sea and the view isn't that bad) and then, erm . . . well, I think that was about it. That was about all I could take. On the way back M**** asked if I would recommend Blackpool to people and, well . . . I guess if you know what to expect, then why the hell not? I guess Blackpool is an unpretentious, modern, lively, seaside resort with everything that entails. Perhaps the groups of men/women celebrating someone's stag/hen do just add to the colour. I just found the place thoroughly bereft and soul destroying but each to their own, I guess. M**** also asked if I would return to Blackpool . . . well, yeah, 'cos we didn't see a huge amount of the place, probably just the worst part.
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